


I'll Be Your Valentine

by dudewhatswiththeshorts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean, Cas is not Satan, Emotional Dean, Fluff, M/M, Season/Series 11, Top Cas, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-16
Packaged: 2018-05-21 01:03:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6032458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dudewhatswiththeshorts/pseuds/dudewhatswiththeshorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam have to kill a siren. Turns out, the hunt's harder than they thought. The siren takes Dean to three different time lines and shows Dean that him and Cas are meant to be.</p><p>AKA a late Valentine's Day fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Your Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> Whoops this is late.

Cas started the Winchester’s valentine’s day celebration (or lack thereof) with a literal crash. He flew in, unsteady, just as weak as he’d been when Dean saw him last. With him, he brought news of a siren just forty-five minutes away from the bunker, before vanishing saying “he’d be back later that night.”

So, Sam and Dean left the bunker with all their weaponry they needed to kill a siren. A quick, easy hunt was exactly what they needed to relax, to let go of what was happening with Amara, with Lucifer. 

Except, they weren’t dealing with a siren. Well, not an ordinary one. They were fighting an alpha siren, the first and most powerful of it’s kind. They were underprepared. They were caught off guard. They were, well, not ready to face this.

That’s how Dean ended up here, on the ground of an abandoned factory, wood chips digging into his cheek. Above him stands the siren, watching as Sam gets taken down by her devoted fans, one heeled foot resting on Dean’s face.

He can’t move. She let him have a taste of her siren-juices and told him to stay still, lay on the floor like the good boy he is. Without thinking, he followed. So he now lays and watches his brother fall to the ground and get all tied up. All Dean can think of, though, is the woman above him. She’s got sharp cheek bones and thick, brown hair. She almost, almost looks like darkness in such an uncanny way. But she also kind of looks like Cas with an angular chin and blue eyes. 

The part of him that isn’t under the siren’s curse hates that she looks like his most desired enemy, and his most trusted friend. Another part, though, a deeper part of himself loves that he’d under the foot of such an amazing woman. One who can look like the two people he wants most in the world. A woman he can have when the other two are off limits.

Finally, the siren steps off of Dean’s face and he eagerly turns so he can look at her, memorizing the curl of her lashes and the arch of her eyebrows. She snaps at him, then, harsh and strict and he immediately looks to her eyes because, fuck, he loves her. He loves her so damn much and her eyes are so damn pretty.

“Focus on me, Dean!” she barks again, and his thoughts dissolve until she’s the only thing taking up his brain. Her cool expression and the stray pieces of hair that blow in the slight breeze. In the back of his mind he hears Sam calling his name, but Sam doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is this woman. She’s beautiful. So, so beautiful and Dean loves her so much.

And then she smiles, elegant and bright. It’s the best smile Dean’s ever seen, all plump lips and straight teeth. She crouches so her lips graze his ear and he sighs, closing his eyes and falling into whatever she’s telling him, drifting in her words.

“I’m going to teach you a lesson, Dean Winchester,” she whispers, low and breathy and Dean loves it. “I’m going to teach you about love.”

Dean wants to say something back, tell her that he loves her. That she’s already taught him everything he needs to know about love. He can’t tell her any of this, though, because his eyes flicker shut and everything goes black.

 

His head is clear. That much Dean knows. His cheek is against something hard and cold, and he opens his eyes. Shoes, tables, green tiled floors. People walk back and forth, into his line if sight and out. He hears nothing, smells nothing. He can only feel the coldness of the floor.

Dean’s hand goes to his gun immediately, rising and searching around the place he’s awoken. It’s…a coffee shop. He’s in a Starbucks. And no one seems to notice him. He still can’t here anything and there’s a dull, throbbing ache in the back of his mind, and all he can think is that he’s in a fucking Starbucks.

“They can’t see you,” speaks a sickly sweet voice. Dean spins around and comes face to face with the alpha siren, her eyes blue and her hair curled. She no longer has any power over him. That is clear to Dean as he swiftly pulls out his gun and aims it at her, no hesitation detected.

She, of course, barely seems bothered by it. In fact, she laughs, her smile that seemed perfect twisting into something dark. She snaps her fingers, the gun disappearing from Dean’s grasp, and then Dean’s fumbling with air. “Don’t be so dramatic, Dean. If I wanted to kill you I would’ve done it by now.”

Dean frowns, bringing his hands to his sides and clenching his fists, “What the hell are you?” he demands, his voice rising. People mill about all around him, undisturbed by the scary, bloody man and the beautiful, dainty woman arguing in the middle of the cafe.

The siren laughs, deep and throaty, her blue eyes shining in amusement (they’re _Cas’s_ eyes she stole them but those belong to _Cas_ ). “You know what I am, hunter,” she spits, “The alpha siren, queen of the lust demons. The one on top. The big boss. Whatever you deserve to call me.”

Dean knows she’s lying. He clenches his teeth, tilting his head up as if to look taller, bigger, more-than. She lets out a snort as if she knows what he’s trying to do.

“What the hell is this?” he asks, instead of proceeding with the original question. His voice gruff with worry and it scratches at his vocal chords. “Where the hell am I?”

She doesn’t answer right away. She takes her time, sauntering towards Dean until they’re practically breathing on each other, sharing the air. Her eyes shine like holy fire, move like angel grace. He’s mesmerized by them, like he’s always admired Cas’. He flinches when the siren lifts her hand to stroke Dean’s cheek, soft and gentle and an assault to Dean’s senses.

“What if your little angel boy fell way, way, way before he met you?” the siren asks, voice sweet and cold like the ice coffee being casually served around them. The question is sudden, unexpected and it throws Dean off a bit. No one around them notices the chaos that rages inside of Dean. Only Dean and the siren see the anger, the confusion, the almost-longing of being around a siren.

“What if he ripped his out his grace, his essence. The thing that makes him feel _whole_ and _good._ What if he woke up in the arms of Mr. and Mrs. Novak. Not named _Jimmy_ like he once would have been named, but _Castiel._ ” The siren retreats from the closeness they shared, turning around, spinning on her heal. She smiles, big and wide, continuing her story like she’s reading from a book.

“You and Cas? The two of you were meant to be!” the siren continues, and Dean almost laughs. Cas is an angel and Dean is a broken excuse of a man. Dean’s hurt him enough, he’d just drag him down in the end. “The man afraid of flying, the angel afraid of falling. The angel too human for his own kind and the man too monster for his? It’s poetic. It’s a love story that will be told through generations!

“Dean Winchester, hunter, man, monster. Castiel is your destiny!” Now the siren is panting, practically shrieking out her speech, staring starry eyed at Dean like two seconds ago she hadn’t drugged him with lust juice.

“Even if he was not an angel, if you were not a hunter, the two of you would meet. The two of you would fall in love. Because, Dean Winchester,” she strides to him, hands cupping his cheek and she presses her nose to his. “This love story will always be told. No matter the circumstances.”

And then, she’s stepping away from him, watching intently as the smell of coffee punches him in the face, the sounds of people chatting and laughing pound his ears. The slap in the face of _realness_ is almost too much. So Dean searches the room, the siren standing silently to his right, but not looking at Dean, stiff and straight almost like some kind of robot.

The hunter takes a few steps forward, licking his lips nervously and searching for any form of danger the siren could have placed him in.

And then there’s _Cas._

He’s so, so young, working the cash register at the front of a long line. His lips are chapped and his eyes are bright, but he’s clean shaven and some tell tale signs of age are gone. Dean can’t help but step forward, watch him as he takes orders. He gets so, so close to him, the counter separating the two. His hair is combed, but barely, and the bags under his eyes are reduced by a lot. He looks different, but Dean doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know what’s so different (despite the age thing), he just knows that this Cas, from this universe, is different.

And then there’s _Dean._

Dean would recognize himself anywhere, even when he’s over a decade younger than he is now. He looks like he’s twenty, hair more blonde than brown. His freckles stick out, his eyes shine brightly. He looks so happy as he gets to the front of the line. He wets his lips, looking Cas over.

Jesus, this non-hunter version of himself is gonna _pick up_ Cas.

“Can I get a grande black coffee, sweetheart? Dark roast?” young-Dean asks. His Winchester charm is still working for him. Dean just can’t believe how fucking white this guy’s teeth look.

Young-Cas tilts his head in a painfully familiar way before an unfamiliar smile stretches across his face. “Of course,” God, his voice is still as deep as it’s always been, “If I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”

Dean almost throws up in his mouth. This is Cas _flirting._ With Dean. In a totally horrible, cheesy as fuck way. This entire thing has to be a dream. There’s no way Cas would ever try to pick someone up. Let alone Dean.

Young Dean doesn’t leave, disgusted by the stupid pick up line. Instead, he giggles. He fucking _giggles,_ and smiles even more, whitened teeth disgustingly attractive. Maybe Dean should brush his teeth more. Or get those whitening strips. Maybe that’s why this version of himself gets Cas.

Fuck, he’s comparing himself to a young, non-hunter version of himself in a completely different universe. All of this might not even be real!

“You must not know better then,” Dean replies, leaning against the counter, “Because you’re really fucking hot.”

Dean rolls his eyes as he watches young-Cas get all flustered and write his number on the Starbucks cup. “My name is Castiel. You can call me anytime, Dean,” Cas says.

Young-Dean winks and sends him one more flirty smile before walking over to a table to wait for his drink

Dean almost feels some sense of happiness until the reality of everything falls on top of him. This might not even be real. It could all be some fake, siren universe she made up to fuck with Dean on Valentine’s day. All of her bullshit about them falling in love in every universe? Lies. Maybe this fairytale bullshit world might have their happy ending, but in the real world, it would never work. Cas and Dean would never work. Cas and Dean barely works _now._ Dean doubts it even works in this universe, this beautiful, happy-go-lucky place where rainbows shoot out of Dean’s ass as he flirts with guys in public and doesn’t hate himself.

“You don’t believe me, do you?” the siren is suddenly at Dean’s side, voicing what Dean was already thinking about. “You don’t believe you’ll last, even in this perfect world.”

Her voice, the way she articulates every word, still and collected like Cas makes Dean’s heart ache. He doesn’t protest when she takes his hand in hers, her dainty fingers brushing over his knuckles.

All of a sudden everything is twisting and turning, colors blending into each other and light dimming and darkening. It’s nothing like traveling in Cas’s grace, warm wings and the tentative touch of feathers, the brief feeling of safety. This way of traveling is like being thrown around in a padded box with a disco light. It’s the strangest feeling Dean’s ever encountered.

Then they’re in a small home. Colors from the twisting and turning still blot Dean’s vision, but once he regains his sight fully he sees he’s in a lovely little living room. Large, warm couches and chairs pushed up against walls mirror a large television set and little coffee tables dot the room, each one with padded corners.

The quiet of the room doesn’t last long. A little girl then comes running into the room with a diaper and nothing else on. She can’t be more than four years old with blonde hair that’s cut strangely short and chubby little arms and legs, a soft belly.

“NO NO NO NO NO!” she screams, but she’s giggling while she shrieks, running through the maze of furniture. The padded corners of the tables make sense now, as they’re protecting the small girl. He watches with a lump in his throat as she climbs onto the large couch against the wall. All of a sudden, Cas is back, but he’s older now, more like the age he looks in Dean’s world. He’s holding a little pink shirt and small jeans. He looks tired, but also kind of happy. Happier than Dean’s seen him in his universe.

“Come here, pumpkin. Papa needs you to wear some clothes.”

“NO NO NO! NO! NO!” she screams again, louder this time and then she bounces off the couch and away from older-Cas. Dean watches will tears threatening to spill from his eyes as older-Cas chances after her. He knows that this is the little girl he has with Cas, and she’s beautiful. _God_ is she beautiful. Yet, there’s a pessimistic side making him wonder where Dean is if this is his kid. Maybe Cas found happiness with someone else and this has been one huge prank. The siren knows they’re never meant to be and has brought him here as some kind of torture.

The siren squeezes his hand and Dean realizes that he’s been gripping onto hers this entire time. He doesn’t want to let go, so he doesn’t. He lets her lead him to the room that older-Cas and the little girl ran into, hand firmly within Dean’s. He’s grounded to that grip. He doesn’t know if he could bare watching Cas have a happy family with some other woman. At least he would be happy in one universe.

The room they enter is a modest kitchen. It’s got traditional checkered flooring and updated appliances. On the stove sits a crockpot and the smell of stew wafts into the air. In front of the sink is other-Dean and Dean feels such a deep sense of relief it’s almost unreal. He’s washing his hands and then turning off the water, turning around to face the little girl as she runs by. He catches her, hoisting her onto his hip and moving all the hair out of her face.

“Baby, where are your clothes?” he asks in a overly-surprised voice. Dean feels wetness on his cheeks and he wipes at his eyes, swallowing and glancing at the siren. She doesn’t say anything when she sees his tears he just gives him a look that makes him feel so fucking happy and maybe a little hopeful. Hopeful that maybe he can have this one day.

He turns back to the scene and watches as older-Cas comes in and gives Dean an annoyed face, shoving the clothes into Dean’s hand and opening the fridge. The volume on the entire thing starts to dim and so do the smells until it’s like it was when he first arrived at the Starbucks.

“So we get married,” Dean says, voice hoarse. He coughs, clearing it, before starting again. This time he lets his hope fly free with the word. “Married.” He hates that word, because most people he’s seen, their marriages have flopped. “Lots of people get married. Lots of people get divorced, too.” He tells the siren. She slips her hand out of his and grabs his shoulders so he faces her. 

“You don’t even believe there’s a possibility of the two of you being in love?” she whispers. It’s such a child like voice, weak and vulnerable. Dean flinches. “You don’t believe he could love you?”

An then everything is darkening and moving and swirling again. The world is tilting and Dean is so, so, so dizzy until everything stops and then the siren and him are in front of a white door.

“You can walk in there,” the siren tells him, voice calm, cold. “You can go in there and see for yourself how much the angel loves you. How much _Castiel_ loves you.”

Then she disappears.

The hunter stands there, staring at the spot the siren once was as the color from traveling that blots his vision starts to clear. He swallows, eyes stinging from the tears he just shed. He looks at the white, white, door. He wants to open it. He wants to see Castiel love him. He wants to watch the angel _love_ him. He doesn’t want to see what can’t happen to him in his own universe, though. He’s afraid. He’s a coward.

He opens the door.

The minute he touches the doorknob, sounds, light, color fill his senses, and it’s almost way too much for Dean. He brings his hands up to his ears to block the sounds of _moaning._

The siren brought him here to watch himself have _sex._ With _Cas._

He almost closes the door and walks out of the house and away from everything. He almost yells for the siren to come back and take him away.

But he can’t. 

He’s frozen in place, staring, because older-Cas is on top of other-Dean and his back isn’t covered by any blankets and he’s moving, so, so slow. His muscles move under his tan skin, rippling and flexing, other-Dean’s legs over his broad shoulders.

Dean’s hands drop from his ears slowly and he swallows. 

“So, so, so good, Dean,” Cas is whispering, and each time he praises the not-hunter, other-Dean’s breath hitches a bit, breaths a whimper Other-Dean lets out some kind of broken sob when older-Cas seems to hit the right spot and then he lets out the most obscene moan and Dean’s blushing, hardening in his pants. The sound is what really gets Dean, the squelching sound from where older-Cas is thrusting in and out and in and out of other-Dean. The sound of older-Cas’s low, ruined moans. The sound of their breathy praises.

It’s almost too much for Dean to handle.

He feels like he’s walking in on some intimate moment between two other people. Between Cas and a better version of himself. He almost feels jealous, but that would be ridiculous. He can’t be jealous of himself.

Except he totally is.

He hates that this man in this room is unashamed to push back into every thrust Cas gives him. He hates that this man in this room has a daughter with Cas and can care for her so nicely. He hates that this man in this room can love Cas freely here, but that Dean himself cannot do it back in his world. He would destroy them both. Dean breaks everything he touches.

“Love you,” other-Dean is murmuring, “Love you, sweetheart, love you so much.”

And older-Cas is whispering the same back to other-Dean. A repeated, breathy, teary-sounding “Love you, too.” 

Dean can’t help but let out a choked sound because, God, if Cas said that to him, they’d be ruined. They’d be dead. It’s inevitable.

He doesn’t wait for them to finish, instead he turns around and walks out the door.

Somehow he expects the dark, swirling, dizzying transition from this love story to another.

Dean awakens on a cold cement ground. Much like last time, he smells nothing, hears nothing. He stands up, goosebumps rising up his arms, each hair standing on end. He’s cold, yeah, but he’s also alert. He knows this place. He can never forget this place.

It’s the crypt.

The siren is standing within view, but she’s silent, like she knows Dean doesn’t want to hear anything from her. She probably knows what happens here. She knows how Cas beats Dean to a bloody pulp and then leaves him when he realizes what he’s done.

Dean watches everything in slow motion. He watches as Cas and Dean hunt for the tablet and he watches as the first punch lands on one of Deans sharp, sharp cheekbones. He watches as Cas walks in a circle, crying out for Naomi to stop, _what have you done to me_. That part hurts to watch the most. He doesn’t want to watch Naomi ruin this beautiful, amazing angel, this perfect, perfect man for a second time. He feels sick.

Then he watches as this version of himself takes Castiel’s hand in his. He remembers this part the most, because it’s the only time he’s ever got to rub his thumb against pointed knuckles, feel his calluses against smooth hands.

“We need you, Cas,” this broken, bloody Dean croaks, his voice hoarse and his nose bleeding, “I need you.”

Dean closes his eyes, unwilling to watch himself flinch away from Cas. He doesn’t want to see the emptiness in the angel’s eyes when he’s realized what he’s done. He’s afraid to watch Cas’s slow destruction once more.

“I love you.”

Dean opens his eyes, when he hears those three words from his own voice. He doesn’t dare breath, watching as Cas begins to realize what he’s done, watches as broken-Dean realizes what he’s said. Dean remembers thinking those three words over and over in his head, wanting to say them, but being so, so scared to. He was a coward then. He still is. He can barely look Cas in the eye now.

Cas doesn’t leave in this version of the story. Instead, he drops to his knees, eyes blank with what could be shock or something else. He gently brushes broken-Dean’s face with his hand, healing every wound he inflicted on the hunter, and then they’re hugging.

It’s a different kind of hug than their usual. This one is desperate, and they cling to each other like they’ll never see one another again. They don’t separate for what feels like an eternity, but probably is only a few seconds. Cas apologizes over and over again, every “I’m sorry” muffled by broken-Dean’s shoulder. Broken-Dean just strokes the angel’s hair, lips resting on his head in an almost-but-not-quite-kiss. The two kneel there, wrapped up in each other’s arms until Cas finally stands, finding his strength again, and Dean stands with him.

“I have to hide the tablet,” the angel says, voice melty and deep and different than Dean has ever heard.

“I know,” broken-Dean says, and there’s a melancholy smile on his face.

“I will come find you as soon as I can. Though, I will have to hide. From…from the angels.” Cas speaks so slow, like he can’t believe he’s running from his family. Dean’s heart breaks a bit, but he’s glad Cas isn’t doing this alone. Not in this version, at least.

“It’s okay, Cas,” broken-Dean whispers, “I know.”

Cas smiles weakly at broken-Dean, and he steps forward and back into broken-Dean’s arms, a hand against broken-Dean’s rough cheek. His eyes are wide, like he can’t believe they’re there, that he can do that.

“I love you, too, Dean,” he says, voice thick. Then he steps out of other-Dean’s reach, picks up the tablet, and leaves.

Dean’s shaking, now. He’s staring at the soft smile that spreads across not-so-broken-Dean’s face and the spot where Cas once stood. He could have had that. That one moment of goodness in a time of so much bad. _He could have had that if he wasn’t such a fucking coward._

“You two became unstoppable,” the siren speaks, voice low and distant as she steps forward. Dean faces her, willing to hear how his happy ending could have gone in this world. In this universe. “No Knight of Hell could stop you. Not Cain, not Abbadon. Not even the darkness could stop you. Everything was defeated together.”

The siren smile lightly and cups Dean’s cheek again, wiping tears away that seemed to fall once more.

Dean swallows, a broken sob caught between his lips.

“You two made it through history, Dean Winchester.”

Dean shuts his eyes, tears falling, still and quiet and wiped away by the siren’s fingers.

“You two became heroes,” she continues, “And Sam got to retire with that Eileen girl.”

Dean screws everything up. He could have had this. This could have been him and Cas. Instead he was afraid. Afraid of stupid, stupid ideas driven into his head from his dad, from himself. From all his self hatred and “what ifs.”

“You can still have this, Dean,” the siren says, almost reading Dean’s mind, “You two will become unstoppable together.”

Dean opens his eyes, and looks into those blue eyes threw the tears. And he watches what happens through them. He watches as the world flips through time. It shows him and Cas and Sam killing Abbadon. It shows him and Cas and Sam killing Cain. Cas holds up Cain’s blade and together they release the darkness, fully understanding the consequences, but ready to face them together. It shows them stopping her with so much light, so much power. It shows them kissing and dining and laughing in between, being the lovestruck moron’s that Dean’s always wanted to be with Cas.

Everything begins to spin and darken, twist and turn one more time.

Everything goes black.

 

This time, Dean wakes up on sand. He lifts himself up, able to orient himself much better. It’s so, so hot, and the sky is red. Everything is ablaze. Dean doesn’t even have to be told that this is the end of the world.

“Castiel never met you in this universe,” the siren simply states.

Rocks crunch under Dean’s boots as he walks forward, toward the burning homes and camps that are visible in the distance. He’s silent, throat thick with tears.

“You had no angel to punch you in the face and tell you how stupid you were being,” the siren laughs a bit, but she’s not trying to be rude, “And so no one could stop you from saying yes to Michael.”

Dean melts. He thinks about all those years ago and the words that sill echo in his head.

_I gave everything for you._

“Take me back,” he croaks, his decision made. “I need to see him. Please.”

He doesn’t even care if Cas doesn’t love him. He just needs to be by the angel’s side.

 

Dean wakes up with blood on his face. It’s the siren’s blood. He knows this, for some reason, and he feels mournful. She was so kind in the end. Even if she is causing Dean to feel like shit right now.

He tries to stand up, every bone in his body is aching and protests him carrying the weight of his body. Sam is there, all of a sudden picking him up and helping him stand, talking to him as he gets him to the car. 

“She knocked you out, wanted you alive. Don’t know why,” the giant says, but Dean’s ears are ringing and he can’t stop thinking of _Cas._

He wonders, briefly, where the angel is, but then Sam is tugging him into the Impala and his senses are clearing. Sam starts the car and the smell of Baby’s gas fills Dean’s nose. It’s comforting, familiar, and it almost makes Dean doubt everything that happened. That the siren was from a weird fever dream. 

He passes out riding back to the bunker. He probably has a concussion, but Cas can fix it. He’s an angel. He can fix a lot of things.

Cas is mostly what Dean thinks about as Sam and he drive. The small smile of contentment that he showed Dean as the hunter welcomed him into his arms. The sound of his laugh when he handed Dean his coffee, sharp numbers taunting Dean to call. The smell of smoke in a world without Cas and Dean. Dean and Cas. That scares him and he usually wakes up. The loneliness he feels whenever he’s there. He’ll probably have nightmares again, but Cas will watch over him. Like he used to.

 

Cas is in the bunker when the impala drives into the garage. He fixes Dean up with a tap to the forehead, but the touch doesn’t linger like it used to. Dean hopes it’s not too late to love this angel. He thought he could have something with Cas. He trusts the siren. He trusted her at a time, at least. 

So, Dean tries to give whatever the Siren was promising a chance. No diner seemed appetizing enough on the way home, so Dean makes the three of them dinner. They settle down in front of the TV, ignoring the little kitchen table for once, and start on whatever episode of whatever TV show Cas left off on. 

Dean doesn’t pay much attention to the show. Instead, he finds himself wondering if everything the siren showed Dean was real. He wonders if Cas, in one universe, makes love to him every night after putting their little girl to bed. He wonders if the angel would have accepted him as easily as if saying “I love you” was something they said to each other every day. He wonders if the world would’ve ended if the angel had died in hell, never having branded him with his print, never making it to Dean, leaving it to a different angel.

He eats his food mindlessly as he thinks to everything the siren showed him, he doesn’t listen to the TV as he stares at Cas’s profile, the curl of his hair, of his eyelashes. The flat, pink planes of his lips. It’s strange, seeing Cas like this. In a new light. In a light of hope.

Maybe, Dean thinks, he _can_ have this. 

He can have this.

Dean feels a little bit of warmth pool in his chest. It’s the first time in forever he’s felt joy like this. It’s the end of the world, but it’s always the end of the world when you’re a Winchester. It’s always the end of the world, and yet Dean hasn’t been this happy since the world was whole with very little threatening it’s demise.

So, Dean lets the little bit of light guide him through two more episodes of whatever Netflix show is on. He lets it guide him through the dishes that he does with Sam and through the light conversation Cas tries (and fails) to make (Certain types of mussels produce offspring by luring larger fish closer so they can surprise them by shooting eggs into the fish’s gills. It’s amazing). The light allows him to float until it comes to the time where Sam heads to bed and then it’s just Dean and Cas sitting in the kitchen. Suddenly, everything becomes cold.

He’s nervous.

Jesus, Dean’s never nervous. Not when it comes to charming and romancing, that’s Dean’s _thing._ Sure, he’s rusty. He’s been pretty focused on other things. Things like Amara, things like satan. A champion at sexing things up, Dean is, even after being out of practice. But now, Dean feels like he did when he was six and had a crush on Maria Soto. He feels like he wants to bang his head against a wall and then go write a page about the angel’s eyes in his fucking diary. 

The hunter sighs in resignation and turns to his friend. Better now than later.

“Dean–.”

“Cas–.”

The two start speaking at the same time, and Dean swallows and chuckles a bit. It sounds forced, but Dean doesn’t have anything in him to try and sound calm.

“What’s on your mind, Cas?” Dean asks instead, voice overly casual. He cringes, and looks down, unable to meet Cas’s eyes.

He hears Cas start and stop, something stuck in his throat almost. A part of Dean realizes the entire thing strangely un-Cas like. A bigger part if him finds he likes it. Likes seeing Cas at a loss for words. The angel off his game. 

“I–,” the angel stops. Starts again, “I have…I think…you go first, Dean.”

And then it’s Dean’s turn to be completely flustered and he feels himself, grossly enough, blushing. “Uh…I…uh…,” and now he doesn’t know what to say. He smirks a bit, laughing, but keeping his eyes down.

Shit, he has no idea how to do this.

He almost feels like crying.

“Cas,” air catches in the hunter’s throat and he swallows it down, “Cas, when I was knocked out tonight, the siren, um, she did some stuff.”

The angel sounds like he’s about to talk, but Dean cuts him off, “Nothing bad, just…she did some stuff. Showed me…showed me things from different, uh, universes, I guess.

“Anyway,” his voice cracks and he flinches, “Anyway,” he starts again, “It made me realize, that uh, I…I, um…you…me…um….”

And then there’s a card within view.

It’s bright pink and in the shape of a heart with large, boxy cursive over it. The lettering is so _Cas_ it hurts and Dean almost forgets to read what the card says.

_Will You Be My Valentine?_

Dean thinks that if he wasn’t so incredibly touched by the entire thing, he’d laugh. He almost does laugh because he thinks it’s a joke. Castiel has come so far from where he’d been all those years ago, oblivious to certain things, wrong about so many customs. This, though, this unkept card in messy writing with such a cliché line on it, it’s exactly what Cas was. It brings back everything that Dean has felt for the angel, like a floodgate breaking, and then Dean finally looks up.

“Yeah Cas,” Dean’s throat is thick, “I’ll be your Valentine.”

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my tumblr: fandomswithbandom.tumblr.com  
> Check out my nsfw tumblr: bottomdeanblog.tumblr.com


End file.
